#wc murder

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Streamrose

Aliases / Nicknames: Stream

Gender: tom

Sexuality: homosexual

Family: Chervilfeather (mate), Posydapple, Rifttooth, Aphidtangle, Bouncechirp, Hyacinthberry (adoptive daughters), Littlepine, Plumfur, Wheatlily, Nectarlion, Minnowface, Swarmvalley (adoptive sons), Sharpholly, Firleaf (adoptive kits), several unnamed adoptive grandkits

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: RiverClan (formerly)

Rank: deputy (formerly)

Characteristics: insecure, afraid of being left

Murder Motive: desperate to keep his family together

Number of Victims: 3+

Number of Murders: 3+

Murder Method: slitting throat, jumping

Known Victims: unnamed loners

Victim Profile: loners that threaten to take his kits away, parents of kits he wanted to take

Cause of Death: weakened by starvation, killed by a fox

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Truthfully, he had not felt home in his Clan for many moons before they left.

His mother died when he was born, then his only littermate left to become a kittypet when they were apprentices. His father died only a few days after he had earned his full name. His father had been the deputy--that was probably why Streamrose was chosen to succeed him, despite his young age and the protest of other Clanmates.

The stress was unbelievable. There was pity about his grief and stress, but there were also cats that were exasperated with Streamrose making mistake after mistake, and pity turned to annoyance.

He looked like an idiot every time he spoke! None of his Clanmates took him seriously. They either saw him as a poor young cat and pitied him, or they though he was a fool and were irritated by him.

He had never had close friends within the Clan. Maybe that was why he was so eager to interact with someone who wasn't from his Clan.

Chervilfeather had been trying to collect herbs on the edge of the gorge when the strong wind blew him over the edge and into the water. He would have drowned if Streamrose hadn't dove in and pulled him to shore.

Chervilfeather was very grateful. He was the first one to ever look at Streamrose with an expression that didn't say 'oh poor kit with the dead mother,' or 'oh poor kit with the sister who left,' or 'poor young tom whose father died,' or 'oh stupid young tom who can't even pick a patrol without messing it up.'

No, Chervilfeather thought that he was great! That he was a brave hero, who risked his life to save someone he didn't know!

He didn't want that feeling to go. He offered Chervilfeather any help that could mean meeting the tom again--swimming lessons, helping gather herbs.

Chervilfeather lost the herbs he had intended to gather when he fell, so Streamrose offered to help him find more. The herbs were feverfew, which grow plentiful in RiverClan territory.

It wasn't long before the two met again. Chervilfeather admitted that he wanted to return to givea gift as thanks for Streamrose's help, and gave him a flower. He said that it wasn't an herb, but it was soft--so maybe Streamrose could use it in his nest?

Streamrose was over the moon! Chervilfeather had wanted to see him too! Streamrose asked if Chervilfeather would still be willing to take those swimming lessons, and Chervilfeather eagerly, but for some reason nervously, agreed.

It wasn't until later when he made the realization. Two apprentices within ear-shot were talking together, when some elders closer to Streamrose said something about 'young love' and how they were clearly flirting.

But one of the cats had been acting just like Chervilfeather--stuttering, suffling their paws, looking anywhere but at the cat they were talking to...had Chervilfeather been flirting with him?

The thought instantly caused Streamrose's heart to speed up. He looked forward all through the night to seeing Chervilfeather again.

The two spent as much time together as they could for two moons. Then, the worst happened. WindClan was desperate for herbs, and RiverClan--despite Streamrose's insistence--refused to give them. The two Clans went to battle, then battle turned to war.

Streamrose and Chervilfeather were incredibly distraught. Speaking together, they both realized that neither had close enough bonds to stay. Why didn't they just leave? Chervilfeather wasn't the only medicine cat, there was still his mentor, and Streamrose's position could easily be filled in.

So, in the middle of the night, the two left, swimming through the water for as long as they could to cover their scent, and then they were off.

One moon went by when Chervilfeather began to say how guilty they felt for leaving. So many cats must have been injured. What if they needed his help to heal them? What if his mentor died before he could train another cat?

Streamrose felt stressed to near tears. He couldn't be left again! They had only been together for a moon without needing to hide their relationship, but it had been a wonderful moon--they were free to play, nuzzle, and so much more without worry of getting caught or being punished.

If they went back...they would lose all that. They may not even be mates anymore!

He didn't actively look for them, but his spiraling thoughts caused Streamrose to wander aimlessly, and his endless walking lead him to an abandoned single kit.

Of course, Chervilfeather was more than willing to take them in. They might die if they don't.

Streamrose felt happier now. Not only was he a father, had a family with the tom he loved--but Chervilfeather couldn't go back now! They couldn't bring their daughter back, whose Clan would they go to?

Little Aphidtangle was adorable. She wasn't old enough to remember her mother, and loved playing with her fathers--especially their tails!

But after some moons of traveling and raising their kit, Streamrose noticed something horrible. Chervilfeather was leading her to moors! He was teaching their kit how to hunt rabbits, how to watch out for burrows, how to live on WindClan territory!

Streamrose tried to combat this, tried to teach Aphidtangle how to swim and wove reed dens, but Chervilfeather pointed out that there was no water around to learn these things properly. When Streamrose argued that they should look for a place more suitable, Chervilfeather refused, stating that they found a good place to stay, and that they should stay there for at least a while for Aphidtangle to grow.

The logical part of Streamrose's brain knew that Chervilfeather was being reasonable, but the emotional part, the stronger part, was nearing full panic mode.

Chervilfeather was angry with him now....he already wanted to take their daughter back to his home, and now Streamrose was pushing him away!

His thoughts went back to how close they were in the beginning, and when they found the kit. That's it! They just had to find more....

But it's very hard to find little helpless, abandoned kits.

Streamrose found kits, but they had a mother.

That mother was sick. Not dead, but definitely too sick to fight. He would be doing her a favour, right? She would be dead soon, and her kits would be safe.

He could have lead Chervilfeather to her to heal her, but with everything in his mind, Streamrose didn't even consider that. He simply picked the kits up and took them to the makeshift camp.

It worked! They were both worried about caring for so many kits, but the older litter could hunt now, so it wasn't too much of a burden.

Chervilfeather apologized for their argument, stating how he only missed the breeze of living on the hills, and didn't consider that Streamrose probably felt the same way about water.

The two made a promise to each other that from now on, they would find a compromise for everything.

That could only last so long.

Chervilfeather hardly put up a fight when Nectarlion left to be with a loner.

He wanted to get rid of their kits! The sooner they're all grown up and able to live on their own, the sooner he can return to RiverClan!

Streamrose needed to avoid that. He needed to get them more kits.

This time, he couldn't find anyone alone. Surely being raised by two fathers and many older siblings was safer than being raised by a single mother?

He didn't mean to kill her. He only meant to scare her off, but she put up a fight. The fight caused Streamrose's claw to swing out, and he accidently clawed the back of one of the kits. The mother went from angry to murderous, and Streamrose had no choice but to aim for her throat.

When he returned, he told Chervilfeather that he found the kits being abused by their mother, pointing out the injured kit--feeling rather guilty as he did.

Streamrose grieved deeply when his kits left to start a life of their own. It wasn't safe out there! They couldn't leave him!

When Bouncechirp told him that she had begun to see a really nice loner, Streamrose knew what he had to do.

When Bouncechirp was supposed to meet her 'mate,' Streamrose instead told her to keep an eye on her brother's wound, as the colder weather could cause it problems.

He went to where she would have met the tom, stalking as close as he could. The tom smiled through the grass, cheerfully saying 'Bouncechirp! I thought I'd be waiting forever!'

Streamrose leaped before he could be scented, sinking his teeth into the tom's throat. Then he dragged his body to the stream--as soon as their kits were old enough to travel, Chervilfeather and Streamrose had moved to a small moor with streams running between them to omage both their homes--and let the water carry it away.

As far as Bouncechirp knew, he had left her. She was nothing to him but a physical need. Bouncechirp swore that she would never love another tom or she-cat again, that she would only be devoted to her family.

Streamrose was relieved.

He had to repeat the process only a few times for his other kits, but it was worth it to keep his family together. Those toms and she-cats were completely alone. No would would suffer from grief, but if his kits left, the whole family would be devastated.

The loners were furious. They may not all be close, but they still talk, and some do have littermates or kits who had died by Streamrose's claws.

The first message came through Hyacinthberry, found dead at the edge of their territory.

They weren't a Clan--there was no leader to give orders about attacking or not, so no one controlled whether or not the kits attacked any loner they found in retaliation.

Chervilfeather was distraught, stating that it was just like the war. Streamrose, however, was more than willing to have anyone who dared touch a whisker on his poor daughter to be torn to shreds.

Loners were weak. Their kits were warriors in the truest sense. They didn't have the blood, but they had been trained in combat more sophisticated than anything a rogue could learn. Hyacinthberry, may she swim in blessed waters, must have been attacked from behind, taken by surprise.

Now, everyone knew of the danger. No one would make the same mistake.

That was true, they didn't.

They made a different mistake--not carefully watching what they eat.

Fumblestorm, his grandson that Aphidtangle became pregnant with before the father was taken care of, and Riftooth died by poisoning in the prey.

Streamrose had screamed his grief to the stars over their deaths. Worst of all, though, was Chervilfeather.

Streamrose had begged him to eat any foods or herbs that could be found, but Chervilfeather still faded by the day.

Streamrose couldn't let him go. He couldn't accept it. He begged StarClan to give him another chance. Leaders get nine--Chervilfeather was more a leader to their family than anyone Streamrose had ever known in the Clans. Couldn't he just be given one more chance? Just one?

Days went by.

The family looked to Streamrose for advice, for knowledge, for comfort. They didn't trust the food they caught themselves, they didn't feel safe in their own territory.

They told him that they wanted to leave. Streamrose told them to wait until Chervilfeather was better.

He spoke with his mate, telling them about their kits and the days everyone had. He laid with him in their nest, grooming his pelt, sleeping, everything you do with your mate.

Aphidtangle pushed him more and more, demanding that Streamrose bury Chervilfeather and pay attention to the family that actually needed him.

Angrily, Streamrose swung at her.

It wasn't the first time he had accidently caused someone's death, but it was a death that truly broke him.

It broke the others, too, as that was the final straw. In groups going day after day, the family shrank. First five cats left, then four, then another five. His kits left and took their kits, leaving until there was no one left but Streamrose, sleeping in his nest next to Chervilfeather's and Aphidtangle's bodies.

He didn't notice how much they were smelling.

He didn't notice the flies.

He didn't leave the nest anymore.

He was getting hungry, and he was getting weak.

When the scent of rotting food attracted a fox, Streamrose didn't have the energy to fight back.

Additional Information: 

--All the kits were given full warrior names since they were kits, as no leader would be able to give them anything else.

--The flower Chervilfeather gave him was blue salvia, meaning 'thinking of you / think of me.'

--There's likely incoconsistencies because we're hearing only Streamrose's pov, and that changes to whatever his mind needs him to believe at the time.

One is "there was no leader to give orders" to justify his kits attacking loners, and "Chervilfeather was more a leader..." to justify to himself and StarClan why Chervilfeather should be able to receive another life.

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Bluecreek

Aliases / Nicknames: ??

Gender: male (demi)

Sexuality: demi-homosexual, demiromantic

Family: Sparrowsmoke (mother), unnamed ThunderClan father

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Frogpaw (apprentice)

Clan: RiverClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: poor impulse control, cold, grumpy, loves his mom

Murder Motive: vengenace

Number of Victims: 

Number of Murders: 

Murder Method: leading into traps, feeding to foxes, suffocating, bashing skull, slitting throat

Known Victims: Frogpaw, Brownstar, Mudfoot, Lowstone, Tigerfin

Victim Profile: cats who causes his mother's exile, cats who spoke badly to his mother

Cause of Death: throat slit (executed)

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Bluecreek's earliest memory was his mother's warm embrace, her purrs, and her voice as she told him how much she loved him.

His second earliest memory was when he had to watch, helpless, as his mother was exiled.

No one would listen to him. He protested, tried to cling on to her legs and wailed for her not to leave, for anyone to stop her and make her stay. But despite of his devastation, the Clan would not heed.

No one stood up for her. They merely stood by in silence, letting it happen without so much as twitching their whiskers. Anyone who did speak called Sparrowsmoke a traitor, a disloyal fleabag, and other such words that Bluekit's little mind was utterly distraught to hear.

She had had her son with an enemy warrior, and for that crime of love, she was to be ripped away from him, and Bluekit was to be raised in a Clan that saw his very existence as an insult to StarClan.

Not that most warriors said those thoughts out loud. That was mostly the words of the elders and senior warriors when they didn't think Bluekit was near enough to hear, but that didn't matter.

It wouldn't have mattered if they all treated him like StarClan's prophet.

They tore his mother away from him.

They were all complicit in her exile.

Bluecreek hated them all.

But he kept these thoughts to himself, shimmering anger that he kept under control as he played the role of the perfect little Clanmate.

Then word spread that Sparrowsmoke had died, crushed beneath the massive paws of a monster while wandering Twolegplace.

Anger burst into full out rage.

They took his mother away from him, ripping her from his side while he was still barely weaned. Then she died away from him, away from her home, in a horrible accident that she never would have been in if it weren't for all of them--then they had the audacity to act sad! As if it weren't their fault in the first place!

Bluecreek couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't stand to be Brownstar's perfect, obedient subordinate any longer.

He would hurt him.

He would kill him.

He wasn't sure how to do it at first. He didn't know how many lives Brownstar had left, but surely it would be more than one. Doing the deed was hard enough without getting caught on its own, but when his victim could come back from the dead to tell all what he's done?

He didn't have to think for long. The answer came to him in the form of two trespassing foxes. Bluecreek simply had to race back to camp for Brownstar when the camp was mostly empty--the presence of the canines caused an increase in patrol sizes. Bluecreek feigned panic as he explained that his apprentice, Frogpaw, was trapped and needed help.

Brownstar, as the fittest in camp, was the only one available to run after him.

There was a trap. Bluecreek didn't lie about that part.

Bluecreek only had to step subtly over it, and Brownstar, behind him, raced after-- and screeched in pain as the Foxtrap ensnared his leg in an agonizing grip. Bluecreek was going to finish him off himself, but Brownstar's cries of pain drew the attention of the foxes. Bluecreek simply had to hide in a nearby tree and watch as they ripped that mother-killer alive. No risking second lives, after all!

No one thought that Bluecreek was involved. It was just those horrible foxes that killed their dear leader and the poor apprentice that was so close to earning his warrior name.

Frogpaw hadn't been alive when Sparrowsmoke was exiled, but Bluecreek had no qualms killing him. He was a spoiled brat, and being Bluecreek's apprentice and having to follow his every step, he was also a liability.

Bluecreek had killed the leader. The hard part was over, but he was far from finished.

Next came Mudfoot, the elder who spat at Sparrowsmoke and called her a faithless fox-heart before he went on to call Bluepaw "the very embodiment of StarClan's disgrace." Bluepaw had silently promised then that the old bat would choke on his words, and he did, in a way, with the help of thorns tucked into his food. They stuck into the inside of his throat on one end and held onto the mass of half-eaten fish with the other, blocking his airway--not that anyone noticed. Mudfoot had simply scoffed down a morsel too big, that was all there was too it. There was simply no need to study his insides to confirm a story that everyone already believed to be true.

Then came Lowstone, the easiest. She was the oldest in the Clan, with frail bones and shaky steps. She left the camp for fresh air, but thanks to stones slippery from a recent rainfall, she 'lost her footing' and cracked open her head. At least, that's the conclusion everyone came to.

Funny. She left the camp and never made it back, almost like the same cat that Lowstone had called a frog-lover.

There was another elder that would have died by Bluecreek's claws as well, but he succumbed to last season's bout of greencough. At least Bluecreek could take solace in knowing that he suffered, if the endless coughing fits were any indication.

Bluecreek's final victim was Tigerfin, the one who caught Sparrowsmoke meeting with a ShadowClan tom. It was his fault all of this happened at all!

Bluecreek suggested they patrol together. Tigerfin was obviously put off, but he had no good reason to refuse. Alone and far away from help, Bluecreek confronted him. When Tigerfin snapped and called his mother a selfish betrayer, Bluecreek lost all self-control and tackled him. They moved together in a whirlwind of teeth and claws until finally the sound of tearing skin cut through their yowls.

Bluecreek broke away and watched, chin raised and eyes narrowed to slits, as Tigerfin wriggled on the ground, desperately trying in vain to stop the blood from pouring out of his throat.

Tigerfin begged Bluecreek to help him, pointing out that Bluecreek wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of a Clanmate. Bluecreek had laughed back at him and stated that he already was.

Bluecreek stood triumphantly over his body. He would have yowled out his victory if he wasn't shoved to the ground by Reedheart, Frogpaw's littermate.

The younger tom had disliked Bluecreek even before his brother's death, thanks to Bluecreek's inability to protect the apprentice that had been put under his care. But now that Bluecreek had all but confessed outright that he had killed Frogpaw deliberately, Reedheart now glared at him with a burning hatred.

Reedheart shouted at his face, calling him a traitor and a murderer.

Bluecreek had sneered in response, and sarcastically asked him what he would do. Kill him and become the same?

Reedheart responded that he wasn't like Bluecreek. Instead, he dragged him back to the camp. Already bloodied and exhausted, Bluecreek wasn't able to put up a strong enough fight.

In the centre of the camp with a hissing crowd around him, Bluecreek refused to show any signs that he was sorry. He looked them all in the eye and told them that if he could kill every last one of them, he would, and to not think for a second that any of them were safe just because he was exiled--just like they exiled his mother!

Needlestar responded that he didn't have to worry about meeting the same fate as Sparrowsmoke.

Additional Information: 

--It's possible that Tigerfin wanted to be with Sparrowsmoke, and was furious when she had kits with someone else (someone dead, otherwise they would have spoken up during her exile), and lied about her having a mate from ShadowClan.

[jorenilee]

warrior cat designs based on those fuckass ultimate guide color palettes

Swatch diagrams made by @/Sunnyfall , please look at them because what was happening behind the curtains that lead to cinderheart being blonde and ivypool brown

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 3

Things are gonna get a bit darker than they have been in the second half of this moon. Be warned and check the tags! Happy Spooky Season!

The sun is ever-present in the summer sky. It sits vigil alongside the clan. Soon after the bodies arrive at camp a patrol sets out to track the rogues, but finding that they have already crossed Shadedclan's territory, it is decided that the opportunity for revenge has passed. They'll double patrols and wait to see if the murders try to cross the territory on their way home. Many are upset, but few argue. As the sky begins to lose it's duskiness, the vigil is ended, the bodies buried, and the clan cats left to filter back into camp at their own pace. Wildfirecry excuses himself to clear his head, while Dancepaw attempts to bridge the gap with the only brother he has left.

Seeing Rosehiptree will be left alone in the burial place, Songpaw decides to stay for a while.

It takes Wildfirecry three days to find the farm cats.

There are Forestclan traditions that were never passed on to Loudclan. Rites that were deemed too dark to touch the newborn clan and thus were cast aside. But here, miles past the valley territories, they live on.

Wildfirecry returns to Loudclan's camp a week after the vigil having lost two lives. No one questions where he has been. The scent of rancid dried blood still lingers despite a fresh coat of oil, and his wounds, while closed, are unmistakably fresh. The clan returns to an uneasy normalcy.

[Whoo! I did it! This moon was INCREDIBLY hard for me. The first part relies so much on my dialogue skills, which, is the part of comic-making that comes least easily to me, and the second part is super experimental, which was so much fun, but also mentally tiring. (On that note please let me know if it's like impossible to see. I meant for it to be a bit difficult to make out, but it's hard to gage between my ipad and my laptop whether it will be readable for all of you. I can fiddle with the color grading tomorrow if necessary.) And finally, Rosehip's experience here is really, really close to my heart. That means that her scenes here are ones that I really wanted to write, but also that I had to take a couple of breaks to make sure that I wasn't wearing myself down too much, so sorry that it took longer than I thought and I haven't been able to answer as many asks as I had hoped to. Anyway, despite early difficulty I had a GREAT time finishing this moon up and I'm happy with how it turned out! Songpaw and Rosehiptree are keeping the trauma dump to best friends pipeline alive and I love them for it. Erminekit is kinda being a brat but he really just wants to be there for his best friend and everyone is getting in the way! He doesn't really get the concept of "giving someone space". As far as Moon 30 I have a science class that I'd like to get finished by the end of the month, so it will probably be a minute. Hope you guys enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[nettlefang]

one (1) messed-up creature

+process

[mourningsbane]

Been playing a lot of ClanGen recently, and decided to start a little blog documenting some of the outcomes! So here's my favorite local kit-hater, Bearface, with the orphaned kit he accidentally adopted. Whoops!

[saeun]

you're married to geto suguru, yet you plan to kill him. interesting, right? truth be told; you despise suguru. you loathe his touch, hate his voice, detest his entire person as a whole. you never loved him — it was simply just toleration.

suguru... he's a decent husband, at most. he gives you money — which is most important — he buys you gifts, he's home, at least. suguru gives you everything but himself. you cried for his touch, he never gave it. you begged for his presence, he said he had pressing business to attend to. he's the best but worst fucking husband ever.

it's not only his negligence, it's him slowly replacing you with someone else. slowly, but surely, you've noticed that another person has been consuming your presence, wringing you dry of the little authority you had within the geto residence. at first, it bothered you to the core. every time you spoke to suguru about these concerns, your voice echoed through the walls like a broken record. in one ear and out the other; heard but not listened.

your tears dropped, yet to him it did nothing but cause a wet mess. he'd always sigh, feeling guilty to leave you spiraling in your emotions. "don't cry, love," he'd say, whispering sweet nothings in your head. he'd bring you to his chest, completely swallowing you in his hold. his fingers would caress your body, reminding you that you're a geto, you're apart of him now. you're not alone. only the foolish marionette will melt in its master's dull words. once the marionette was you, twice is what it won't be.

the honeymoon phase wilted, what's left is nothing short of two adults tied together by a piece of paper. a liar is what you refuse to be. if anyone may ask, you will not lie. it's true, your heart feels heavy. you miss the suguru you met as naive teenagers, you miss the suguru who loved you from the moon and back. unfortunately, what comes must go. you've grown tired of being the sole one who reminds him about anniversaries and birthdays.

his effort to maintain the marriage no longer exists. his attraction to the mistress heightens every week. it hurts, yes, but you're numb to it. hell be damned you've become the forgotten wife but never will you ever be the wife who allows her cheating husband to be.

no, never. they won't get a laugh out of you — they won't get the last say. the blame glazes over both, yet it soaks suguru more. as a married man, he should've known better than to entertain a mere lady's lust to him. now comes his price to pay, and soon she will pay hers. a circus that walks together, dies together.

it's never easy planning a murder. you don't want to get caught — prison isn't somewhere you'd want to be. the easiest and most effiecent way to ensure suguru's death will be poisoning. not just any poisoning, however. a poison that kills naturally; something that'll make his death appear natural.

suguru's always been a healthy man, using an excuse such as "he fell ill," won't work. he doesn't have much enemies. his peers loved him. a death by food poisoning seems much more acceptable. food poisoning occurs in many ways: for example, if the food has been left out for too long, boom, food poisoning. it's not unusual for one to die by it, so the plan sets sail.

──

one: errands.

as usual, your role of playing the forgotten wife will remain the same. running your ‘errands’ will be as easy as flipping a page, suguru pays you no attention. today it'll be the same. the only obstacle would be to find the energy to arise off of the bed.

the subtle sunlight grants the room a warming aura, giving the perfect contrast together with the air conditioner. like always, suguru's gone. the only trace of him being here would be your memory of him sneaking in last night. at least he has enough manners to not wake you.

same old, same old. you'll only waste your energy worrying about him, let's just finish the morning routine.

"morning," out of habit, you greet the empty house. coming out of slumber to be greeted by an empty home used to do numbers to you. now, it doesn't. its merely a house cosplaying as a home.

the oh-so fluttering dreams of a married life with suguru have dusted away. if only you can go back in time and stop your lovesick self. whatever, no use dwelling on it now. there's a plan to layout.

a single toasted slice of bread, your bottle of water, a handbag, and the car keys are all you took out the door with you. the house keys are attached together with the car keys so it's not a worry. not like you'll be back before suguru anyway.

the drive feels silent. although the radio's on, it feels empty. maybe it's the effects of your clouded mind, or maybe it's you attempting to clear your mind. either way, it's nothing but trivial matters. at this very moment you most likely have to stitch up a lie believable enough to obtain the poison.

chilly, is what you think. you're at the destination; it's an apartment complex that was in the makings but was abandoned. it's dirty, puddles of water decorate the floor, and its filled with dealers and criminals alike. can't blame them, it's the perfect place for a hideout. coming here alone as a woman is something you'd never do... without a weapon that is. you don't own a gun, but you do own a pocket knife.

"psst," someone calls out. they must be calling another person. let's just continue walking.

"you, woman," they call again. surely it's not you. let's just speed up the pace.

"oi, rude bitch 'm talking to you," they specify and surely enough they aren't calling you a bitch, right?

"you're not talking to me with that attitude," you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the man — or lady, you don't know. their face is covered and their clothes are baggy.

the stranger walks you to, and you walk backwards. okay, it's kinda getting creepy.

"any — any reason why you're coming to me?" you questioned, trying to mask your obvious worries.

"aren't you the one who's here for the poison, missy?" they stop walking, reaching into their pockets before bringing a small, white tube in view.

oops, you're caught off guard. if this is who you agreed to meet with you only hope they don't run with the poison.

"oh — yes, that's me! how'd you know?"

"have my ways. ain't a dealer if i don't know my clients — even if they're a one timer," they speak, handing you the tube. "name's siren. just an alias, don't question it."

you carefully take the tube, in return you quickly place the envelope in their hand. ready to get out of there, you ramble out your words, "okay, thank you! the money is in there, bye! see you never!"

siren watches your frame scatter away from them, the sounds of your low heels clicking the floor making them chuckle. crazy woman, they think, returning their focus back on the money.

you're back in the car safe and sound. you know what, it's time to go back. you lock your doors, hide the tube in your handbag, and turn up the radio. now that the errand's over, you probably won't go outside for two days.

ah, home. nothing beats being home. except suguru's car is parked so that means he's here. the home is now back to the house. inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself to have any interaction with him. you have your doubts but something inside you screams that he's going to talk.

"where have you been?"

well, that was quick. you only managed to take your heels off. talk about an impatient man.

"out for a breather, why?" you return the question, walking into the living room without glancing at him.

"all right," he says, not continuing the conversation.

ladies and gentlemen, never get married. suguru no longer cares to hold conversations. you can tell the ugliest lies to him and he wouldn't care. as long as you're back, it's okay. you're used to it, yet a silent voice in you wished that he would've asked more questions.

you continue on without glancing at him, making your way to the shared bedroom. it's a little after noon, you'll take this time to relax.

──

two: weird individual(s).

it's hot — you feel hot. a burning sensation engulfs your head. this wasn't supposed to happen. you were making dinner, casually sipping on your glass of wine as you go along. suguru, for some reason, finally showed himself for the day. without a word, he seated himself near the counter, pouring himself a glass of wine and keeping his eyes on you.

to say you're not uncomfortable would be a severe understatement. his eyes create holes in your back — it's annoying. say something if you want to, asshole, you complained in your mind but truly, you yourself weren't going to say anything.

and so, you carried on. dinner being cooked and suguru being weird. it got even more weird when he stood up. you're at the sink, cleaning as you go along. suguru's finished with his glass, so it's not out of the ordinary for him to stand behind you, trapping you with both arms as he washes his glass, right? yeah, it's pretty weird.

"uh, do you mind?" you softly spoke, which was also weird. why is everything just weird tonight?

suguru stays in that position, humming to a tune you're not familiar with.

"is it wrong to be near my wife?"

oh, now i'm his wife.

"not at all, suguru. it's just that i'm busy at the moment," you told half the truth. you are busy, but you don't want him near you.

"is that so?" he spoke, removing one hand only to place it on your hip. slowly, he begins to squeeze the flesh, lowering his head into the junction of your neck and shoulder. his voice, though muffled, can be heard with a low, seductive tone, "missed you all day, why not busy yourself with me?"

bullshit, but it's not bad. you can do with some physical destressing.

"not in the kitchen."

"sure."

and that's how you found yourself tangled on top of him on the sofa. sloppily making out with him, hands found freedom in his hair, and his hands found home on your hips. it's a hot mess, and you're kind of liking it. suguru may be a bitch, but he sure knows your body. it's been five years, after all.

"wait—" you broke the kiss, placing your hands on his chest. "let's st—stop," you spoke, stuttering as suguru leans his head to bite your neck.

"why?" he asks, curious at your sudden choice. you never stopped him before.

"i.. don't feel good, sorry suguru," you lied again. suguru isn't and is the problem. you'd love to go deeper with him but the realization that he's touched another woman like this disgusts you. it's no wonder you plan on killing him.

suguru doesn't speak. instead, he moves you off of him. "it's okay," he says, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek. it doesn't take long for him to leave you alone again. now you're feeling a pinch of guilt. i'm not wrong, right? he's the one who abandoned me.

you sigh, lifting yourself off the sofa. there's a dinner to indulge in and trust, you will enjoy it. you made it with your blood, sweat, tears, and some wine.

──

three: poison attempt day.

surprisingly, you felt energized today. as if someone charged six-hundred volts of energy to a dead battery. today's the day, hopefully. the man who cosplays himself as a husband is absent per usual. it's up to you to cook lunch.

you're already preparing; there's no time to waste. every minute needs your utmost attention — the kind of attention a predator gives its prey before hunting them. the one downside to this would be the poison's taste. it's not an overwhelming one, but it's there. anything with a strong scent comes with a strong taste, they say. you haven't put it to the test — no way, you're not suicidal — but the safer side's always better.

ginger, you think, ginger and onions overpower everything. bingo. a minute¹ change to the recipe's ingredients but it's nothing to fret over. trivial matters again. within an hour, lunch was finished with a cherry on top — except the cherry holds the uneven balance between suguru's life and death.

you removed your apron, flicked off the water from your hands after you washed it, and then threw yourself face-first onto the longer sofa. exhaustion massages your body, encouraging you to fall into its depths. its opponent, emotional drain, creeps up. your body's the platform, and they're the contestants. a battle of who will dominate you begins; a useless battle for the woman whose tears dried up long ago.

a heavy sigh escapes, i'm tired, you think. sliding your hands under your head, you use it to cushion the side of your face. it's quiet like always but you're left to your thoughts this time. it may just crown itself for being the first time you gave yourself leeway to part and understand your tangled emotions. it's like a ball of tangled wires: scattered yet neat. roads to untangle it are visible, yet its many wires frighten the person.

what you feel is nothing short of some doll who replaces her face to satisfy the owner. the marionette you once were and refuse to be again. she who shows you, you who show yourself, who is the real you? perhaps, it's all. everything is you, everything has become you. many versions of yourself dance around the stage, all moving towards to same goal: killing the one who drained them.

the clock ticks, each sounded second rips your skin apart. it's torturous, but soon it'll all be over. i think i need a nap, your last voice echoes away in your mind as you succumb to exhaustion. who knew planning a murder against your once beloved could've been this draining.

─

suguru lazily enters, slackening his tie. his eyes focus on the lunch decorating the dining table. soon, his eyes travel to your resting figure. after all, you're in his usual position. she's sleeping, he thinks of the obvious, deciding to keep a low profile as to not wake you.

however, being a man means that you're prone to making mistakes... especially loud ones. from the cup connecting with the floor to the fork clanging as it fell, it's been a rather loud attempt at serving himself some lunch.

he's sure that you're awake. well, not entirely awake, but conscious enough to hear everything around you. the blame is his to own, again.

"it's untouched..." suguru whispers, confused at the perfectly untouched food that lies before his eyes. maybe you got a change of eating routine.

lies, of course. you'd be nothing but a joker if you were to consume the same food you poisoned. suguru doesn't know this, however. he's picked his path and the path hides its true face; wicked and heartless, like a haunted house pretending to be a normal house to lure in its victims.

it's been a few minutes later and you're now fully awake. you haven't moved an inch to expose yourself — just mindlessly gazing into the void of your shared house. you're aware that he's home, aware that he's found himself lunch, and aware that the clock's ticking sound has gotten louder. almost as if it knows its counting down someone's death day.

"is he eating?" you whispered, peeking from the sofa's backrest. "oh, he is."

suguru's at the dining table, scrolling on his phone as he shoves a vegetable in his mouth. his actions fill you with guilt, excitement, and fear. for a reason only god knows, you don't want him eating anymore. may it be due to loving him half of your life, or may it be due to the guilt of killing someone who mattered to others. whatever, who cares. no one — no one will, you chant in your mind, attempting to convince yourself.

"wait, suguru—" you acted out of your own will, cutting your speech short when you regained yourself. what the fuck? you're leaning over the sofa's backrest, reaching an arm out to suguru. eyes wide open, you try to piece together a reasonable follow-up response.

"hm? something wrong?" suguru asks, mouth filled with food. he places his phone face down and tilts his head. he looks innocent, as if he's not a cheating, neglecting bastard of a husband. well, that's the way life goes. the evil masks themselves as the innocent, basking in those who are more innocent than themselves, slowly consuming their energy for their own. selfish, selfish people.

"ah," you begin, awkwardly lowering your hand. "is the food okay? i tried a new recipe."

i don't want to kill him.

"yeah, it's good," he responds, taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

he's wronged me.

you walk towards the dining table, pulling out a chair to seat yourself in front of him. "i see... how was your morning?" you questioned, swallowing hard. your legs are shaking, you don't know why. your heart races, you can't answer why.

"boring, same old stuff. i met with my client though, she's fun to be around," suguru tells, poking the food with his fork to get a good bite.

i fucking hate him.

you don't speak after that. instead, you bite at the skin of your lower lip. your emotions try to join together, yet they won't. it's like a lava lamp, they'll never truly connect. every time you're away from suguru, your hatred tames. every time he's back, it heightens. it doesn't take much more than his voice to fuel your restless anger. you observe him, watching the way his throat bobs each swallow. something feels off.

the two of you continue in silence, simply observing each other. suguru takes it upon himself to do the dishes, you remain put in the chair. his phone remained with you, face down yet dings with notifications. you've always wondered what it's like to have him text you every day. once it was a memory of the teenage years... now it's a sour dream.

──

four: night, night.

it's the same night, you're in bed with suguru. both of you are under the same covers, yet you're both at the extreme ends of the bed. a large, empty space separates you two. neither are asleep nor do they wish to be awake. a heavy feeling rains over their shared room. the tension's strong enough to break the strongest thread.

suguru's the first to turn, rolling himself over to you. he extends an arm to secure over your waist; this brings you skin-to-skin with his torso and your back. his head lowers to yours, resting his chin on your head. you give no reaction except stiffing your body. what's he up to?

his extended arm caresses you lightly, mimicking patterns on your delicate skin. he takes a deep breath before exhaling.

"my love, i know you're planning to kill me," he softly speaks, waiting for you to respond.

your heart drops. what? he knows? it's probably a bluff. you opt for remaining the way you currently are. if you continue pretending, he'll most likely continue speaking the truth.

"i've been watching you. i don't blame you, dear. i've neglected you for quite some time. i've cheated on you with someone temporary. if i were you, i would've killed me sooner. however, i won't lie and say i'm not hurt. if my wife were to kill me, i'd prefer it to be in an easy, quick way. you've chosen your part and i can't change that, but promise me: on my deathbed, you'll be there. it's not a request to mock you, but a request of seeing you one last time," suguru empties himself out, pouring onto you a bucket of words that hold the truth. the ugly truth you've avoided.

literally fuck off. it means nothing now, you think, judging suguru's words.

"i've been horrible and nothing can change that. i will not beg for forgiveness, nor will i beg for your love. it's already been done. but please, my dear... let me say sorry," his voice quiets to the end and the caressing stops. his hand remains firm, waiting for you to come out of your fake shell. "i know you're not asleep. answer me, please."

caught red-handed.

"i don't care for your fucking apology. it's a bit too late," you spit your venom out, thanking the gods that your back is what's facing him. "matter of fact, i hope you die soon. do as you wish, though. your time is limited."

suguru doesn't answer yet. his arm around you tightens. his breathing's getting uneven — you can hear it. it's shaking, the same way your eyes are shaking to prevent any tears — or as you call it, the pity tears.

he takes in a deep breathe, verbally exhaling a shaky one in return, "then, i'll apologize. i'm sorry."

that's it, huh, you think, almost voicing out your thoughts.

"it means nothing to apologize for actions i could've prevented a long time ago. so, i'm sorry. sorry that i've wronged you to the point you plot my death," he finishes, not having any more to say.

you wriggle out of his grasp, turning to face him. it's dark yet you can see his sadness. isn't that just too bad? the bar of the love you still feel for suguru exists, yet its overpowered by the hatred you've accumulated for him. it stings that he's going like this, but you rather it be by your own arms instead of another's.

"i don't have anything to say," you quietly speak, looking at suguru in the eyes. "if it doesn't work, then i hope you recover in the worst way. if it works and you die, i'll kiss you a merciful death."

the conversation ends. what's left are two adults staring into each other's eyes. there's nothing but empty voids facing each other. voids they once filled, voids they once created. it's too late; too late for anything. suguru's a petty liar if he says he's not afraid. who isn't afraid of death? he doesn't want to die, but what's done cannot be undone. he cannot turn the clock anti-clockwise and fix his actions. you won't be switching lanes, and it's set what the outcome will be.

minute¹ — pronounced my·new·tuh. meaning: extremely small. two synonyms: tiny, little.

[formigoid]

[saltsongwc]

ooooo now I’m curious, how does spotted loose her lives?

"Eight by the frosted scourge, one by the storm"

[sethdomain]

My name is Brutus and my name means heavy

[dogrocks]

bidin' my time

[bonefall]

(dif anon) So is Ashfur grooming Shadowsight a plotline you would keep/rework in BB? I'm not so keen on the way canon used it to retcon his epilepsy, but I do think a plotline examining how clerics can be vulnerable to abuse from StarClan spirits is kinda compelling

Shadowsight's epilepsy is staying in BB, the Erins can try and take it away again over my dead body

Yes, that's staying and BB!StarClan was reworked with unfairness in mind.

This time around, I'm considering the idea that Ashfur didn't work completely alone. After the events of Squirrelflight’s Horror, Silverpelt's divisons are starting to crackle the stars.

Skystar and the other more traditional spirits are losing patience with the peace that Fire Alone brings, and the ways that the code has been bent.

They feel that honor is being lost in their descendants.

Even angels disrespect the collective; see how Skypelt has its own heaven? With a demon in its midst? There is blasphemy even in the skies.

Firestar and the more modern pantheon are ferociously defensive of the choices of the living. StarClan exists for them; not the other way around.

Meanwhile, Mousefur has gone missing. Others start to blink out, too. This is causing panic... and Ashfur keeps it quiet that he's the only one who knows where they've gone.

The angels that plan action probably were a small group to begin with, radical spirits. Skystar and Ashfur are two of them, and Ash is the "youngest." So when he comes down to the mortal plane and betrays them, very few other angels knew what had happened.

(I might even have a few angels be doing the various supernatural things in that first book, but slowly, Ashfur is wittling down their numbers until it's just him.)

I'm still working out specifics, but the other angels that Ashfur has consumed are giving him a massive power boost. He can use this to jump between planes freely, and he's able to do some whacky things like weave dreams and pull nightmares out of the Dark Forest.

The most important unique power he has, which he can do ALL on his own once he's absorbed enough starpower, is blast Shadowpaw with a bolt of lightning. The electric current runs through Shadowpaw's brand new scar, giving him a connection to StarClan like he's a little radio tower.

Thing is... when StarClan is blocked off, the only signal he receives is Ashfur's.

So, Shadowpaw.

From the time he was very young, Shadowkit has had an unhealthy relationship to life and death

He watched a lot of cats die before he was old enough to really understand it, and the only one who came back was Heartstar.

His epilepsy was so severe it would have been terminal. He was prepared to die as a kit.

Tawnypelt took him to the Tribe to learn more about treatments, bringing back a method of refining chamomile to manage the convulsions.

When people come back from death, it was to serve "a purpose."

He feels like he needs to be special, like he needs to find the great meaning in his life. The reason why he's still here.

In BB, there can be guardian angels. Cats you knew in life who decide to watch out for you in the afterlife. Moleflight is Jayfeather's, Shrewface is Squirrelflight’s. Ashfur poses as Shadowpaw's.

THAT is how I plan to address my criticism. Ashfur DOES build a very personal, trusting relationship with Shadowpaw, pretending to be the one who's here to give him the destiny he craves. Pretending like he's someone looking out for him.

I actually LIKE how desperate the situation was in-canon and I want to stress how none of this was Shadow's fault, so I also plan to keep that they had very little choice. Shadowpaw trusts his angel completely, and Ashfur coaches him on saying all the right things.

The older Clerics are suspicious, but... what else can they do?

Also, instead of framing this all as something Shadowpaw needs to "atone" for, I'm going to make certain cats unfairly scapegoat him for bringing the Impostor into the forest. Shadowpaw himself agrees with them, blaming himself, but he has to learn it wasn't his fault.

He DIDN'T let anyone down by failing to live up to great expectations, and there's no way he could have known that Ashfur was using him. This never happened before, he always made the choice he thought was right and tried to make up for harm done, and he's not responsible for what his abuser made him do.

I actually want to have him figure out some of this by talking to DF demons, towards the end. Cats faaaar more responsible for what they did in life than him.

Ravenwing in particular, who was also mislead by a rogue StarClan spirit, but... ultimately decided that if StarClan was right in their judgement.

He was told (by Birchface, but he still doesn't know who it was in particular) to make three kittens unsafe by revealing their parentage. His choice killed three innocent children, and lead to the Queen’s Rights.

And StarClan was furious that he'd ever believe they'd want something so CRUEL.

And even if they DID want something so cruel... "Then they wouldn't have been ancestors worth following. And that's why I believe it's right that I'm here."

As a Cleric, he had authority on their behalf. And if they would misuse it through him, he wishes he could have just given it right back.

And Shadowsight's lightbulb goes Ding!

The very last thing Ashfur does in TBC, when the jig is up and he's about to be killed by the Lights in the Mist and a bunch of Demons who have come to defend their home, is swallow a Founder-- Skystar.

He takes the level of a true god, and reaches a nearly undefeatable level of power. Instead of black water, he's so large, malicious, and has a gravitational pull so massive it starts destroying the afterlife. It shatters the purgatory (Meadow of Young Stars) into floating cosmic fragments, and Heaven and Hell are set to collide.

Shadowsight confronts Ashfur, politely explaining that he's, well... done a lot of thinking, and, he doesn't really want what he gave him. "You can, uh, have this back!"

And blasts the lightning from his scar right back at him, like a chain, holding the screeching eldrich horror in place. Every ally he's made, here in the DF, come down from StarClan, and as Lights in the Mist, jump to his side. They can't hold down Ashfur, but they can hold SHADOWSIGHT

While they're all supporting him, Bristlefrost sees the one chance to get rid of him, once and for all. A clear shot. She bolts, pounces, and SHOOTS right into Ashfur like a falling star, knocking them both off the edge of the heaven he destroyed, burning up in orbit with a monster a hundred times her size.

And after that, Shadowsight has to go home and live with this.

He gave up the very connection that made him so special, and now he has to go back to being a Cleric without StarClan.

but the other Clerics accept this. They have to. They were all complicit in the choices that allowed the Impostor to rise.

What Shadowsight learns is... everyone was part of this. From those who made the follies with him, to the supporters and rebels against the impostor, to those who helped him realize his worth, to Bristlefrost who ultimately killed Ashfur.

He is valuable because living is valuable.

Everyone, and everything, matters. All cats have a role to play, and he was never alone.

I want to close him out in BB!TBC on a tea scene that parallels the various points in his life. Others used to prepare his chamomile treatments FOR him, in careful doses, because it is a very serious medicine. Now, at the end, he's the one brewing it.

A fully fledged Cleric, who realizes he's never been alone. Cats who love him were around him the whole time, making his medicine, and they'll love him even after he's given up his powerful gift. So now he's at the stage in his life where HE can make that medicine, share his wisdom with others, and find fulfillment in the skills he's acquired over a hard life brightening.

[aphidclan-clangen]

moon 9 part 1

[mourningsbane]

The incident?

(Since it's been a bit, The Incident is referred to in this post!)

Bearface, being an outsider, was never close with many clan cats. He originally joined LutumClan because of Tanglefern, and came across as standoffish and rude. As such, it was quite a surprise when he and Honeyspring became close friends, and Rootstar's final decision became all the more sour.

They had a nasty brawl outside the burrows, and Bearface has the scar to prove it.

[calamarikitty]

SCOURGEY!!!!!